Cinnamon Toast and The End of The World- What Happens After
by AquaEG
Summary: 1987, Christmas. Stephen finally opens Ryan's box to see scribbles. 'I love you.' 'Ryan loves Stephen.' Surprised, shocked and hopeful, Stephen jams his keys in his car and drives to Hallifax. And he wonders, 'What the hell is this freak thinking'


I could say more, so I will.

Ryan Darby, half-chicken-half-Eric Stoltz. Who had scratched out the words 'I love you' in some stupid Japanese wooden superbox. Who had blatantly expressed that he didn't want to be anything more than friends, was in fact disgusted by the thought. So what the hell was this crap?

I sighed, one hand on the steering wheel and one hand bracing my temples with my fingers. I needed a balance. This was all too much stuff to take in. The whole freaking day was a shocker.

I thought back to the day Ryan had a nervous breakdown in my room. He'd clutched me like I was his only anchor and cried on my shoulder. After which he ceased contact with me for weeks. And I remember him pushing up a pillow between our crotches, and I smiled a bit, because it was probably to hide whatever adventure he was on.

The little freak had liked me all along. And I thought he was some asexual alien from Mars that couldn't get close enough to anyone to even get it on. I mean, the amount of spats he's gotten into the short while I've known him is more than what I've ever experienced. If you count out the whole getting beaten up by Mark almost to death thing.

And I thought back to when I was talking with Mark today. He was a bit chubbier, but constituted of mostly muscle, not fat, like always. A bit ruddy and tired-looking. Too young to look that way. I still couldn't believe he was going to be a father. I mean, remembering all those lazy Saturday nights of us on the basement couch smoking and getting drunk and being regular old teenagers, you would never think he was up for this responsibility. It was a damn shame he got stuck there forever.

I still didn't like where his life was leading him. But it seemed like he made up his damn mind, so whatever. I grimaced. My chest still hurt whenever my thoughts wandered to him. But it wasn't nearly as emotional as before, just physical. Excruciatingly, painfully, physical. I hadn't forgiven him. I finally let myself think it; God, he was such a narrow-minded asshole. And asshole who used to be my best friend. Who had instantly switched teams when I poured out my heart to him. And hit me with a tree. Then saved my life. Then beat me up. Then wanted to make me his kid's Godfather.

The idea that he could maybe just accept the fact I was gay and continue being friends with me had never crossed his mind at the time. I wasn't asking him to have sex with me for God's sake. Just wanted to lighten my load. Except he had just pushed it and more back to me. It still hurt to remember the bonds we had. He knew my house inside out and I knew his corner by corner. We had spent the past few years glued together, and now he was becoming a memory I just wanted to push into the recesses of my mind. It just was way too fucking unfair.

I didn't want a lover from him. _I just wanted an understanding friend who had the guts to joke about it but still accept me. But I guess he had no guts. If he does, I hope Stacy pulls all of his guts out one day when he's being an asshole like always._

 _But I guess I didn't mind dropping by to see his little tyke._

I'd reached Hallifax, the Welcome sign almost invisible in the twilight. The city was still busy, cars beeping away, the lights multicolour and dizzying, the stench of the city streets, an odd mixture of fall-enclosed trees and dead things.

But the thing I was trying to find was far away from all of this. I sure hope I didn't end up encroaching on his roommate getting it on with his girlfriend. But then I realized that everywhere was emptied out. It was Christmas after all. And I remembered that he had told me the college had kicked him out for the holidays and he was staying at some Youth Hostel…I think in front of some harbor…no wait. Fuck. That wasn't it.

I was driving around in circles around the expanse of the city, panicking because I couldn't for the life of me remember the name of place. I hoped to a God I didn't believe in that I would catch something that sounded vaguely familiar amongst the urban chaos that was Hallifax. Then I saw it. In the corner of a block, five-stories high, moss creeping up the brick walls, garbage strewn at the side. There were a few college-aged kids sitting in the small lawn in front of the building, smoking and looking generally drunk. There was a worn out sign that hung precariously from the 2nd story.

 **HARBOR FRO YOUTH HOSTEL**

I wasn't about to wonder why the NT was non-existent, so instead of dwelling on the squall, I parked the truck across the street, got out, and walked across the street to the building. None of the wasted people bothered looking at me. Oh what a wonderful Christmas they must be having, all potted up and high. I creaked open the door and was blasted with a sickly sweet pine smell. This building had obviously tried to make up for it's lack of Christmas cheer by trying to persuade us olfactorily. There was a sad little pine tree in the corner with popcorn strings strewn up around it, what looked suspiciously like toilet paper and a colourful origami star on top. There were red and green drapes and besides that, the place looked dead. There was a snoring receptionist in a booth at the side and I just realized that it was way too dangerously easy to get into this place.

I walked to the booth in the smelly silence and tapped on the window. The lady jerked up, drool having run it's way down her chin. She stared at me blankly, fixed her glasses, tried to wipe her mouth to no avail. "Yes?" She said blearily.

"Um, I want to visit a friend of mine who's staying here…"

She took out a book with a list of names in it and squinted at me. I think she thought I was too bright or something. "Who?"

"Ryan Darby…"

"Ah, the American kid. He's up in room 11." She made a motion with her hand towards the stairs, as if to shoo me up.

"Thank you but is there a time limit or anything?" She snorted. "No one's got time to keep up with stuff like that. Now let me be, hun." Her head rested on the counter and she nodded off before I even got to the stairs.

Walking up, I felt my head buzz with nervousness and my skin pringle with goosebumbs. With each step, my heart spiraled into a storm of emotions. He liked me. _He_ _loved me._ He was right, I really was too easy. Easy to fall in love and out of it. I don't know if I was in love with him but I would really miss him if he was gone. I'd already missed him for weeks, and I was hoping he would get his shit together and come hang out with me again. _But._

So here I am, in front of his door labelled **_Salle 11._**

"Knock, knock." I rapped on his door sharply and found my voice was slightly raspy. I cleared my throat and tried again.

"Who's there?" Came a small voice from the other side of the door.

 _Goodness. We weren't playing this game were we?_

"Fucking Stephen, that's who. Don't you dare say Stephen who, cause I will personally kill you when you open the door."

After a short pause, the door swung open lightly and he stood there, in his blue flannel pajamas, with the comet, moon and stars. Like I had expected. I almost laughed at how accurate I had been. His hair was messy and tousled, glowing copper in the yellow light that came from his room. I guess he was sleeping when I woke him up. His light-gray eyes narrowed as he stood there with his arms crossed, clearly nervous.

His nose sniffed the air, all pointy and small, as he said, "What are you doing here, Stephen?"

Then a bit more rudely, " I thought you were too busy celebrating to remember little me."

Though I don't blame the guy.

And I pulled the superbox from my coat pocket and held it up to him, open and embarrassing.

"No, I remembered when you sent me all those messages. So what's up with this?"

His eyes widened and he took a step back before coughing and saying, "It was just a prank."

"I don't think so, man." I stood there with my arms folded, wanting nothing but the truth.

"Seriously, it was just a joke," he muttered nervously, his hand reaching up to comb through his hair. "Just to freak you out a bit. Nothing more."

"Well, you successfully freaked me out and I know what you're saying right now is bull so can you tell me the truth?" I felt my voice soften a bit, pleadingly.

He gulped, Adam's apple bobbing slightly and moved away from the ajar door to let me through.

Shooting him a grateful look, I stepped in to his room. It was empty, white walls and cracked corners. It was barely big enough to fit the small bed and wardrobe that was in it, with a little empty carpet space in the middle. I didn't expect much more from a place like this, at some corner of some street that still took people during Christmas. I walked to the bed and sat on it, fingers touching the unmade sheets and the warmth that was certainly his.

He closed the door and stood there, looking like he didn't really know what to do, like always. He kept pulling on a cowlick that stuck out from the side of his head. So, I started the hard part for him.

"When did you know?"

"God, I don't know!" he burst, to my surprise. He slowed, clearly struggling with himself. "I never know. It just happens and I never see it coming…"

"What do you mean?" I urged.

"I… don't usually feel things like this." He leaned back against the door, glassy-eyed, looking like that was his only support right now." He wiped his nose with his sleeve and continued, "As in I generally don't get attracted to people. I just don't."

I just couldn't help but interject, "So my theory that you were an asexual alien from Mars is actually kind of true?" I couldn't help but giggle a bit, even with the mood how it was. Ryan's mouth curved up a bit and I just sat there, smiling slightly at him.

"Go on," I said softly.

He slid down the length of the door to sit on floor, long arms folded around his knees. "By the time I reached highschool, I still hadn't liked anyone at all. It was worrying me, but I just couldn't bring myself to think of any girl that way. All the guys kept going about this girls' boobs and that girls hair but I just didn't think they were important. And then I met this girl. And she was amazing," he sighed wistfully. "I didn't get attracted to her until we were so close. So close," he whispered.

His eyes shot up and his light-gray eyes bore into mine. "We didn't last long because she moved after a while. And after that I went back to not being attracted to anyone. And then I met you and I certainly didn't think much of it. After all, I had been with a girl." His eyes flitted to the side, probably because he couldn't bear looking at me when he said it.

"But you became my best friend and we spent so much time together and then I just couldn't help it. I just liked you so much."

Then his eyes turned apologetic, "Partly the reason why I didn't talk to you for a while. Even though I did like you. So much. But I just needed time. It was just...a shocker." He sighed, combing through his copper hair with his fingers, and I noticed it looked straighter than I had ever seen it.

I snorted, gruffly saying, "Yeah, that was a dick move." Then softer, "Don't ever do that again, ok?"

Ryan looked back at me then, surprise apparent on his face. "I thought you hated me for that. I thought you were like irreparably angry with me," he sniffed with a sad smile. "Cause you didn't get back to me on what I wrote in the box."

I rubbed my face and exasperated, I breathed, "No, I was just busy, Ry. I was with my mom's boyfriend's family and I was just trying my best to be an attentive son."

"Course I bailed out after a while when they started talking about gays and AIDS," I groaned, "but as soon as I reached home and heard your messages, I opened it and I saw. I'm sorry, though." I sighed, "I guess I put you through some awful feelings."

He tilted his head and appraised me. "Seriously?" And then he guffawed to himself, so hard and loud, that he clutched his stomach to brace himself.

"Yes," I said, hurt. "You're annoying but not annoying enough that I would ignore you willingly."

His laugh slowed down to a chuckle, a gleam in his eyes. "So that's what you think of me, as slightly annoying."

Right now I felt like I should just pour out the truth in ways I never had. I owed it to him.

"Yes. When I first met you, I also thought you looked like Eric Stoltz fucked a chicken and you came out."

He promptly stood up and gasped. "I can see the Eric Stoltz but why the chicken?" He complained, starting to pace around the room. "Why not a duck or a freaking flamingo? I'm pink enough to pass off as half flamingo," he offered, gesturing to his unarguably peachy skin. I could not for the life of me tell if he was being serious or not and I could totally see him being a flamingo so I just burst into laughter.

"You know, you kind of look like an older Ralph Macchio." Ry said, thoughtfully. "Maybe he fucked a swan, I can't think of anything else that could make you."

"Oh my God!" I laughed even harder, almost doubling over. "That's the sweetest fucking thing a guy's ever told me!"

Now, Ryan was laughing along with me and our laughter filled the room warmly.

When I was finished laughing, I wiped my eyes, and puffed out, "Is Eric even old enough to fuck anyone?"

"Who cares, he's famous, there's gotta be tons of girls- and swans- squawking around him."

I looked heaven-ward and heaved a sigh. "God, help this lunatic, please. Even though I don't believe in you."

"I'm being serious though. I think you're really good-looking. Though I'm sure you've had much better guys telling you this. Guys that weren't me, the alien." Ryan muttered, blushing to his ears.

"…I think Eric picked the chicken out for a reason," I said slowly and looked away, feeling a little shy myself.

"He did?" Ryan looked up at me.

"Yeah, the chicken probably stood out the most," I tried to pull off a nonchalant tone but emotion was clearly leaking into my words. "It probably was the most graceful one. Probably flew a few feet in the air, more than the other ones ever could. Probably would have made the best fried chicken," I joked.

But Ryan just stood there looking at me. Scrutinizing me with those beaky eyes. Eyes that looked like windows to a swirl of gray and silver.

And I couldn't help moving towards him and stopping right before him. Because I wanted to look closer, had always wanted to see what else existed inside that maelstrom of ashen sand and wind in his eyes. Was it just that loneliness he seemed to exuberate? That look of weathering a storm all by his own. Could I help him somehow?

So I looked, right through the shutters to that immense world behind those rosy, long eyelashes.

And he wasn't breathing, his inhaling stopped abruptly by my sudden movement. And he was waiting, and I was waiting. And then my gaze wandered away from his eyes to his long nose that ended at a point, the smattering of freckles on the pale skin of the bridge of his nose and his cheeks. And then to his lips. The only thing on his face that wasn't sharply featured. His plump lips curved, pink, slightly dry. They wouldn't be dry any longer.

Before I knew it, as he was a bit taller than me, I had reached up to entangle my fingers in the hair at his nape and bent up to kiss him. It was just a peck at first and he was surprised and I could tell he had his eyes open still. But then I nudged him a bit and he parted. I slid my tongue in to explore his which tasted nothing like what my mouth tasted like. It was sweet and tangy, like dark chocolate. And I couldn't get enough. He had slipped his tongue in too and now it was like we were wrestling and melding and drowning in each other's flavor. Feeling weak in the knees, I had slid down to the ground, pulling him with me.

And now he was leaning on the door frame with my leg slipped in between his and his arms were around my waist pulling me in so tight I couldn't very well do anything else than kiss him. Not that I wanted anything else. My hands had strayed from his hair and travelled down his back, tracing the sharp line of his shoulder blades though his shirt and the bump of his spine as it arched into my kisses. I relinquished my hold on his lips and kissed his nose and the sprinkle of freckles on his face, moving from one to the other as if I were connecting the dots of his face.

I craned my face, gently biting his ear and he moaned slightly. I moved my lips down the supple length of his neck and stayed a while where his collarbone jutted out, kissing every inch of the depression of skin above. His face had arched back in pleasure and I took the opportunity to kiss the soft skin of his chin. When he lowered his face, I pressed my nose to the frizz of his hair, inhaling his scent. He was working on me now, going down on my cheek and trailing kisses and pecks down my ear and neck and I giggled, I had always been ticklish.

I pressed further into his aroma and gave little sighs of contentment as he continued having his way with my neck and loosened his grip on my waist, trailing down to brush the small of my back and cup my hips. Goddammit, I had thought this guy was a virgin. Where did the sly bastard get all these moves from?

My hands had also ended up by his hips somehow and I slid my hands up his shirt and traced the curve of his navel and travelled down to cup the lump on his pants and he gave a little squeaky gasp. He pulled away from my shoulder, panting. Then he whispered, "Can we take this to the bed?"

My breath hitched too and I breathed back, "Of course."

We got up shakily, junk hard and hands entwined, and walked to the bed.


End file.
